to break a good man
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: Bellatrix takes Neville as her prisoner.


**Author Notes: **Thank you to aigooism for the beta.

**Warnings**: Character death. Implied suicidal thoughts/actions brought on by torture/starvation. Dark!fic. Torture (both physical and mental). Starvation. Sadistic behaviour. Violence. Very strongly implied dismemberment.

**Day One**

"Wake up, young Longbottom."

Neville cringed at the feeling of warm breath on his ear. His head was pounding, and his eyes felt as though they had been glued shut. Slowly, he opened his eyes and blinked rapidly until he could focus. He seemed to be lying on the ground, which was made out of something cold and unpleasantly damp. He tried to move his head, but that simply seemed to make his headache worse. Neville licked his lips slowly, ignoring the bad taste in his mouth.

His brow furrowed as he tried to remember how he had got here. The last thing he could remember was being in the greenhouses. It had been a long week, and he'd been looking forward to tending his plants. It was unpleasantly hot in the greenhouse, so he'd removed his jacket. Neville's heart pounded as he realised that was all that he could remember. What had happened? Who was that who had spoken? The voice had sounded familiar, but it wasn't one of his friends. He knew that much. Whoever it was, the very sound of their voice drove fear deep into him.

Neville shifted slightly and tried to push himself off the floor but something held him down. "Who's there?" he managed to get out, his voice raspy. "What happened? Where am I?" He turned his head, ignoring the sudden increase of pain inside his head. There was a damp feeling inside the room, and as Neville felt his head clear, he realised that it wasn't physically damp. There was a magic dampening field around the room.

"You are _mine_ now."

Neville felt a shiver slide down his spine as he heard the high-pitched laugh. It seemed to resonate across the walls and into his very bones. He rolled over and saw a familiar insane glint. "Bellatrix," he spat out.

"Very good, my pet," Bellatrix drawled. "You're awake."

Neville watched as she waved her wand. The feeling of being held down disappeared and Neville managed to push himself off the ground so he was standing up. His hands were shaking; he tried to hide them by shoving them into the pockets of his robes. He narrowed his eyes. It was an odd feeling being in front of Bellatrix again. He always had the impression that she was taller than him and indeed, she was always an imposing figure. But now that he looked over, he realised that he was over a head taller than her. Somehow, this didn't make him feel better. He just felt gangling and awkward. "Where am I?" Neville demanded, trying to sound strong. She didn't need to know the hollow feeling of fear spreading through his stomach.

Bellatrix smirked as she walked over. Neville shivered as she used her wand to push a lock of his hair away from his face. He knew that he should run or try to grab her wand, but somehow, his arms seemed to be stuck to his sides and his hands kept on trembling uncontrollably. "Hogwarts has fallen," she murmured into his ear. "The Ministry is falling."

Neville swivelled his head to stare at her. "What?" he blurted out.

Bellatrix's eyes gleamed as she licked her lips. "Hogwarts has fallen," she repeated. "And you are my prisoner."

* * *

**Day Two**

Neville was surprised when Bellatrix came in alone. He had almost expected that she would bring a group of Death Eaters with her and that they would all take turns torturing him. But instead of knives and whips, all she seemed to have with her was her wand and what seemed like a newspaper. Of course, Neville realised, she could inflict more than enough damage with just those two items. His skin crawled as he tried to prepare himself.

"You look frightened."

"Of course I do," Neville blurted out. "What'd you expect?"

"Relax," Bellatrix said softly. "I'm not going to physically hurt you."

To his surprise, Neville could feel himself relaxing slightly. It was ridiculous. He knew that Bellatrix was more than capable of lying to him. She was insane. Everybody knew that. She seemed to take special pleasure in torturing people. Every month, Muggles and the occasional Muggle-born would turn up dead with the letter B carved on their chests.

"Least not today," Bellatrix added, with a smirk. "Today, I'm going to tell you a little story." With a flourish, she opened up the newspaper. "It's on _The Daily Prophet_ and it's called: The Day Hogwarts Burned."

Neville's stomach churned as he saw the picture on the front of the Prophet. The faces of students and teachers were frozen in expressions of pain. Underneath, there was a caption saying: Due to the graphic nature of these images, the editors have chosen to use Muggle film. Somehow, Neville thought that this made it worse. It looked like the people were frozen in time, forever screaming and forever burning.

Bellatrix cleared her throat. "At least fifty students were killed as well as several faculty members. As many as twenty are still declared missing. It is presumed that they were captured by Death Eaters." Bellatrix smirked and then a thoughtful look came over her face. She toyed with the edges of the newspaper. "It's funny. The Ministry has broken, and as I speak, Shacklebolt is signing control over to us. But, yet, the editors of the Prophet are still holding out against us."

"I don't want to know this," Neville said, his voice cracking. The idea of the Ministry falling – yet again – made his heart sink. He couldn't believe Shacklebolt had signed the Ministry over. He thought that Shacklebolt was a better man than that. Neville frowned. He still couldn't seem to remember exactly what had happened, but his dreams the previous night had terrified him. There were bright flashes of green, screaming faces, and then there was nothing but pain. He didn't want to see the faces of everybody he knew dying. When he hadn't been fitfully sleeping, Neville had been trying to get out of the room, but finally he gave up. It was tightly warded; there was only one door that was locked and one window that was tightly barred. The only way he was going to escape would be to overpower Bellatrix. Neville looked over at her. That seemed like an impossible task.

Bellatrix cackled. "The Headmistress of Hogwarts was found dead this morning. Her throat had been slit in a brutal Muggle method."

Neville could feel his throat closing up. Minerva was dead? She had been a good teacher to him, but more importantly, over the last few years, she had been his friend. "I... I suppose you did that to her." His gaze travelled to where Bellatrix's fingers seemed to be carelessly toying with her wand. If he reached over, if he just edged a bit closer, then he could grab it so easily.

"I'm glad you recognise my handiwork," Bellatrix said, not looking up from the paper. "And you shouldn't think about trying to get to my wand." Her fingers tightened around the wand, and Neville could feel a wave of disappointment rush through him.

"I... I wasn't."

Bellatrix lifted an eyebrow. "You were and if you value your life, you wouldn't try it again."

Neville shuddered at the gleam of cruelty in her eyes.

* * *

**Day Four**

"We're going after Potter," Bellatrix told him airily as she entered. "Him and his little gang. They've escaped the initial purge, but we'll catch them." Her eyes shone. "This is going to be so much _fun_!"

Neville shuddered. "Stop telling me this," he managed to get out through gritted teeth. He barely managed to sleep the night before. The disgusting slop that Bellatrix served him in lieu of food didn't help either. The smell of it seemed to permeate the room. "I don't want to know."

"We already took care of Potter's pretty little wife." Bellatrix toyed with the shiny bracelet around her wrist, and it was with shock that Neville realised who it belonged to. "She didn't want to let this go. It was Potter's gift to her for their first wedding anniversary. But I managed to convince her to part with it eventually."

Neville gulped as he looked more closely at the bracelet. What he thought were rubies, were actually splatters of blood that Bellatrix had obviously not bothered to wash off. Oh Ginny, Neville thought, his heart aching. When he closed his eyes, he could see her bright red hair and vivacious smile. He would never get to see that again. He would never get to hear her chuckle or roll his eyes at the way she acted with Harry, as though they were still newlyweds.

"A beautiful bracelet," Bellatrix said softly. "A collector's item."

* * *

**Day Five**

"Crucio!"

It felt as though all his nerves were on fire. It was worse than anything he had ever felt before. Worse than the most painful stomach-ache, the most embarrassing moment, the most piercing headache, and the most bone-shattering toothache. It was as though she had filled his veins with liquid and then lit it up so that he was burning from the inside. Neville could hear somebody screaming and screaming and screaming. It was with shock that he realised that somebody was himself and that raw animal sound of pain was being ripped out of his own throat.

Bellatrix lifted her wand. "Now don't you appreciate my daily news update more now?" she drawled. "Or would you prefer that tomorrow."

Neville opened his mouth and tried to answer, but nothing came out. He coughed into his hand and could taste the metal of blood in his mouth.

"Insolence," Bellatrix told him. "You should answer when your betters speak to you." She lifted her wand again. "_Crucio!_"

* * *

**Day Eight**

Neville barely looked up when the door opened.

"What's the matter, Longbottom?" Bellatrix taunted as she strode over, depositing a small bowl of food on the floor near him. Neville could smell harsh potions chemicals on her as well as the completely unappetising smell of the food. His stomach growled anyway. "Don't you want news of your little friends? Don't you want to know how we finally _won_ even without the Dark Lord?"

"No," Neville said flatly. The word sounded dead even to his own ears. He was sick of Bellatrix's games and sick of her daily news update. He was sick of everything. His nerves were still jangling from the Cruciatus Curse, and his skin crawled every time she told him of the deaths of his friends and his students. "Go away."

Bellatrix laughed. "Your little Mudblood friend is dead. She led us on a merry chase, but we got her in the end," she said. "Look, I even brought you a token. A prize from the hunt."

Neville shut his eyes tightly and refused to look over. He didn't want to know what kind of token Bellatrix had brought. And then what she said suddenly sank in. His heartbeat suddenly sounded very loud in his ears and his breath caught in his throat. Hermione was dead? That couldn't be. He had only seen her a few weeks ago. She's come to visit him at Hogwarts, and she'd never looked happier. Her eyes had sparkled, and she couldn't seem to stop smiling. Neville had wanted to ask her if she had any good news, but he had lost his nerve. She would tell him in her own time, he knew she would. Except now, Neville swallowed hard, she never would.

"I know you cared for her," Bellatrix said, her lip curling. "But Merlin knows why. She was an unattractive, nosy little chit." She giggled. "But I fixed that."

There was an odd note in Bellatrix's tone. Despite himself, Neville found himself opening his eyes and looking over at her. As his gaze settled on what Bellatrix was holding in her hands, he wished he hadn't. In fact, Neville wished he had just stuck his fingers in his ears and hummed loudly until he either ended up dead because of Bellatrix's wand or he woke up from this horrible nightmare.

Bellatrix lifted the object in her hand and held it up to the light. "Nosy," she said and snorted with laughter. "Get it?" A drop of blood slid down Hermione's dismembered nose and Bellatrix licked it off.

Neville swallowed and tried very hard not to be sick.

* * *

**Day Ten**

"I'm not your toy!" Neville burst out.

There was a gleam of surprise in Bellatrix's eyes. "Well, well, well," she drawled. "The little Longbottom had grown a backbone. Let's see if he keeps it."

Neville squared his chin and ignored the cold sweat that was breaking out all over his body. "I'm not going to let you play these games with me any longer," he snapped. There was only a slight tremble in his voice. "I don't care what you do to me."

"But _Neville_," Bellatrix said, her voice cloying. "I'm not playing games. I'm giving you news of your friends. I'm keeping your spirits up. Giving you a view of what's happening in the outside world."

"No, you're _not_!" Neville's hands were shaking as he took a step forward. "You're ... you're _sadistic_ and you're _enjoying_ it."

Bellatrix's upper lip curled. "As much as I enjoyed playing with your parents," she said softly, her eyes glittering. "They screamed and begged for their lives as I broke their bodies. But that was the easy part. Breaking their minds took _skill_."

Neville shuddered. Involuntarily, his mind drifted back to his parents, in their tiny room, forever trapped inside their own minds because of Bellatrix Lestrange. "You won't break me," he said, but even to his own mind, his voice sounded weak.

"Your parents were twice as strong as you and they broke _easily_," Bellatrix told him. She twirled her wand in her fingers. "Your mother begged me to stop. She _begged_ me to kill your father instead. To see my knife cutting into his flesh instead of hers. She bargained for her life with everything that she had. In the end, she even offered you to me."

"My mother wouldn't have done that!" Neville shouted. There was a roaring noise in his ears and his stomach turned over and over. His mother was brave. He knew that. Everybody knew that Alice and Frank Longbottom were heroes. They weren't cowards.

"Oh, but she did." Neville clapped his hands over his ears, but her voice continued on relentless. "She betrayed everybody that she knew in the end. The only thing she wanted to do was save her own skin. She didn't care for her husband, her son, the cause, or anybody, except herself." Bellatrix stopped and smiled. "She would have made a good Slytherin."

"Stop it!" Neville took his hands away from his ears and looked up wildly. "Stop it! Stop these games. What do you want with me? Why are you doing this to me?"

"I want to see the pleasure of your pain," Bellatrix told him. "But it seems that you won't play any longer. Fine." Her voice was suddenly cold. "If you won't _play my games_ any more, then I suppose I'll have to leave you alone.

Neville could feel a sudden leap of hope burst up inside of him. It was ridiculous; he knew Bellatrix would never let him go, but there was still a chance. A small _chance_ that he could leave here and see his friends, his students, and his colleagues again. "You'll let me go?" he managed to get out, his voice raspy.

"In a way," Bellatrix told him. Her tone was light, almost friendly. "You'll get to see your parents again soon. And your precious grandmother." She walked over to the side of the cell and kicked over his the bowl of food she had just brought. A tiny noise of protest escaped Neville's throat before he could stop it and Bellatrix laughed again. "That'll be the last you get, young Longbottom. I'd eat it off the floor before it's too late."

Neville's stomach churned as he watched Bellatrix sweep her cloak around her and walk out of the room. Turning around, she waved her wand and immediately, the door closed and the wards came down.

Slowly, Neville looked over at the slop that was currently spreading over the stone floor. It was disgusting; the so-called food Bellatrix had provided him with had the consistency of oatmeal, with the taste of dry cardboard. He had only managed to get a few bites down the first few days until he had got hungry enough to eat most of it. Had Bellatrix been serious about her threat? He suspected she had been. She was certainly sadistic enough to try to starve him.

His stomach rumbled, and with one last furtive glance at the door, Neville dove over and scooped the food off the ground and ravenously ate it off his fingers. As he licked his fingers, not noticing how dirty they were, he thought he could hear cackling from behind the door.

* * *

**Day Twelve**

Neville wrapped his arms around his stomach and groaned. It felt like there was a very large and very hungry bear inside of him trying to claw its way out. It wasn't a constant ache; it might have been better if it was. Instead, it seemed to come in waves. One minute, Neville felt like it was going to be okay and that he wasn't starving. Then, the next minute, he would break out in a cold sweat and waves and waves of pain would wash over him. He almost expected that Bellatrix would come in to mock him, to watch him in pain, but the door didn't open. Instead, Neville found himself left alone with nothing but the bitter taste of bile in his mouth and the gnawing feeling in his stomach.

He had spent the previous night licking the very last remnants of the food off the floor. The mixture of dirt and sweat that had co-mingled with the food almost made him throw up, but Neville had persevered. The tiny morsels of food and the water from the full water trough had taken the sharp edge off the hunger and he had felt almost okay when he had fallen asleep the previous night. But then, when he woke up in the morning, the burning feeling was back.

Neville tried to fill his stomach with water, but it didn't help. He suspected that Bellatrix was taking some sort of perverse pleasure in magically keeping the water trough full. But all the water seemed to do was give him a heady feeling and make him nauseated. He still drank anyway. He had to. Neville remembered reading somewhere that the human body would die after a few days without water. He didn't want to give Bellatrix the pleasure of seeing him die of thirst. Or did he?

Neville hesitated. His cupped hands dripped with water as he slowly lowered them down.

He was going to die anyway. Almost everybody he had known was dead. He knew that bracelet of Ginny's anywhere and as much as it turned his stomach, he recognised Hermione's nose. It was only time before Bellatrix and the rest of the Death Eaters killed off everybody else he had ever cared about. It was only a matter of time before everything was gone anyway.

Slowly, Neville stepped away from the water trough.

* * *

**Day Thirteen**

Neville gasped and licked his dry lips. Everything was fading in and out around him and he couldn't seem to keep track of the hours any more, even by the rising and setting of the sun through the window. His vision was going blurry and he kept on looking over at the door, expecting Bellatrix to come in.

The door remained shut.

* * *

**Day Unknown**

The minutes, hours, and days were bleeding together now.

Neville curled up in a corner, drew his legs up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his legs. He was surprised at how little it hurt now. The gnawing hunger and the aching emptiness were long gone; they had been replaced by a heady numb feeling that permeated through his very bones.

The full water trough in the corner mocked him. Visions of pumpkin juice and scones danced in front of his eyes and if his mouth didn't feel like a desert, Neville would have drooled. He coughed into his hand, the motion making his shoulders shake and a sharp pain shoot through his diaphragm. Neville rested his head down on his knees and ignored the trembling of his arms.

It was going to be over soon. He knew that. Just a few more days.

* * *

**Day Unknown**

The world faded in and out around him. Neville could barely keep conscious, let alone lucid. At one point, he thought that Bellatrix was watching him, but by the time he turned his head to look, she had long gone. When he managed to lift his hand up in front of his face, Neville realised his fingers were trembling. He dropped his hand heavily down into his lap and stared down at it.

The end was edging ever closer with every laboured breath he managed to force into his lungs. Soon it would be over. Bellatrix couldn't stop that, Neville thought blearily. He mightn't be able to get out. He mightn't be able to free himself or to fight back but at least, with death, there would be a kind of escape.

Neville's head drooped down and he took one last gasping breath before the world went black around him.

-fin


End file.
